Then she grew calmer, the burning sensation in her face had become less acute, she had said her prayers for the night, and prepared herself for sleep with her hands folded across her breast like a child. Soon, soon! The smile was still on her face.
At that moment the loud noise in the passage had startled her.
What could it be so late at night? She ran out of the room in her petticoat with no shoes on her feet; she was seized with a sudden fear--Martin, if it were Martin who wanted to run away. She must go to him, take hold of him, cling to him, he must not go! But then the thought struck her that there was no need to fear, he would not be leaving with so much noise. But still, if Mikolai were holding him, if they were quarrelling, struggling with each other, the one wanting to go, the other endeavouring to hold him back? Hark, what a noise! How Mikolai was shouting!
"What is it, what is it?" cried Mrs. Tiralla, as she stood in front of her stepson, panting. Mikolai had lighted a kitchen lamp, and they gazed at each other in the dim light with haggard faces.
"Where, where is he?" She caught hold of her stepson's arm. But then she bethought herself. Martin was nowhere to be seen, and this was not his bedroom door; this was Mr. Tiralla's, on which Mikolai was thumping, and before which he now stooped down and tried to look through the chinks.
"I don't know, I don't know," cried Mikolai, shaking the handle once more. "There's a light burning in the room; but everything is so quiet, and father isn't snoring."
"Oh, leave him!" It was no longer a matter of any importance to her, and she was going upstairs again. "He's fast asleep, that's all."
But Mikolai held her back in his fear. "Do stop," he begged, and there was a strange note of anxiety in his voice as he added, "Father always snores so at other times. I wonder if he could have had a stroke?"
Could it be possible! The woman's cold face grew hot.
"Father!" cried Mikolai once more, rattling the latch with all his might, but the bolt did not move. "I'll fetch a hatchet," he whispered; "we shall have to break open the door. You wait here and look out." He ran to the shed, where the axe lay by the block.